


Strength

by orphan_account



Series: One-Shots [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Death, I was sobbing like a tiny baby, I'm so sorry, It hurt for me too, Last words, M/M, Terminal Illnesses, Unfulfilled dreams, Wrote this horrible concoction to break your heart, dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:45:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4405055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He sensed the end was near and took some time to write some final words. Victor hoped the pain would end soon, but if that meant that Sherlock had to be alone, he would have suffered through anything. He didn't have much of a choice in the matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strength

Something they never told him when they first gave him the news was how much pain there would be. They also never told him how much it would hurt other people to see him when his final defenses fell.

He had a grim smile on his face as he watched his husband, asleep next to him in the impossibly tight hospital bed. He wished they would let him go home so he could sleep in a bed where he was able to cuddle him without the right rail of the bed digging into his hip.

He was going to go regardless. Why couldn't they let him go home? He reached out to the little roller table and brought it closer to him, licking his lower lip as he tried not to cry.

There was a cruddy ballpoint pen and a legal pad in front of him now, and the idea that these would be his last words didn't daunt him at all. The only thing that scared him was not having enough time to finish it all.

_Sherlock,_

_I'm sitting here and I'm dying, but I'm not scared of it ending. I'm downright terrified of there being nothing else. I don't want some big place where everyone and their grandmother gets to talk for eternity and plays the harp. I just want you._

_I want that little cabin we always talked about, by a lake. I want to stay in bed with you all day, not like this, in one of those ridiculous frilly canopy beds where we can draw the curtains and close ourselves off from the rest of the world and just sleep, and cuddle._

_If I had known...I would have tried harder. I would have worked myself to a heart attack if that's what it took, and I would have gotten that place and we would be there. And I would be okay there. I'd love to spend a minute in that place. It breaks my heart that we never got to the point where it existed._

_Please take care of yourself. I don't want this to be the end for both of us. Please. You'll find something else that makes it worth it. I would tell you to find someone else, but god knows I'm too goddamn selfish... but please do. If you can find someone that will care for you the way that I do, someone that's loyal and loving, please don't throw them away over me. I don't know if I'll even know what you're up to by then, but I wouldn't hurt over it._

_Everything hurts. My muscles and my bones and every single organ in my body aches and I wish someone would kill me. Do me a favour and pretend that's not how I went out. Pretend that I felt better and that my brain did me the courtesy of shutting down. I don't want to be remembered in pain._

_I love you. I hate that it hurts to write that. I love you. I think it hurts because I feel like I'm leaving. As if it were my choice. I wish it were. At least then you could hate me._

_I love you._

_Fuck._

_I love you._

_-Victor_

He shut his eyes tight and his body convulsed with the sobs he held back as he shoved the table away and turned to wrap his arms around his love, pressing desperate kisses to his temple. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to leave him alone.

His throat hurt, now, because of all those cries he was holding back. "I don't want to die", he whimpered. The admission felt pathetic.

He almost panicked when Sherlock stirred, that cute, tired look on his face as he frowned, squinting at him. "What is it?" he whispered, "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to go." He sniffled and buried his face in his hair as he pressed tearful kisses to his scalp.

"Oh..." It wasn't a dumb noise of understanding. It was a whine. Sherlock cried with him as he hugged himself closer to his body, his fingers clutching at the mint-colored gown. "I don't want you to go either", he cried into his chest. He somehow managed to keep this air of somber courage. "I'll be...okay." It hurt his heart impossibly more that he was lying.

"I love you." He sniffled again and closed his eyes.

"I love you too...I love you so much. I wish...I wish I could make it better."

He didn't have to. Two days later, Victor passed away in his sleep. That's what the doctor on hand told him, anyway. Sherlock knew better than to believe it.


End file.
